The Runaways
by MelodyDTK
Summary: A story that hits home for many, a look at a life that nobody ever sees. Rated T for language, and promises of brutal/violence in further chapters, If reviews A special thanks to my three friends on FanFic- who are dedicated to reading all of my work.


"I don't know what you expect me to do mom." She gave me a sloppy cold stare.

"DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO? HUH? IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK?" she started loosely spitting out nonsense, trying to counter my argument, curses slipping out from time to time.

"Please stop mom, you're going to wake up Joe." She flashed me an out of place smirk.

"Shut the fuck up, you thinks you can tell me how to parent my fucking baby? He is mine. I don't need little shits like you who think they can tell me what to do- like you're all smart or something. I'm older than you. I give you shelter and all you do is bitch about how I don't feed you two enough, or telling me to stop drinking." She clumsily fell back into her rocker, and picked up her glass again.

"You never remember anyways…" I couldn't help it, tears started to run down my face as I stared into this depressed woman's eyes. This had happened so many times before, I tell her how it hurts her children, and she goes from yelling to caring, saying she is sorry and promises to stop.

"Never remember? BULL SHIT. I'm only hurting myself Casey." She spits at me.

"Is that why when I was a little kid, you were passing out on the couch from taking anti-depressants with alcohol? Back when dad was still here? Is that why you didn't believe I had asthma and you hid my inhaler from me- while I turned blue- which by the way, you don't remember, that Katherine had to search for it while you freaked out and dumped water all of her text book? That's why she never visits, you know. That's why they don't trust me with you. Only months ago you weren't feeding me and I had to go stay with Katherine, debating whether or not to call social services."

"Don't talk about your father. You think you know everything, and you don't. Stay out of this. Joe is my child, not yours." She outstretched her hand to my head, as if to pet it. "You know I just didn't believe you had asthma, I thought you were faking."

I rejected her hand quickly, "I could have died." She then went silent, and her glassy eyes stared off into space. She opened another Mike's Hard Lemonade. "When you got that DWI with Joe and me in the car? When you broke the lock off the fridge for the alcohol dad locked from you? That's why he left soon after, I know it."

"Shut up." Her brown hair that used to glisten was now a tangled dry mess, loosely covering her over concealed face. She brushed it back with trembling fingers, struggling to separate the past and reality.

"Go to bed mom."

"I'm fine." Don't tell me what to do; I will go when I want too. With that, I grabbed her arm gently but forcibly lead her around the house, so that I could push her into her room. I heard her land on the bed with a thump, and decided it was time to do what needed to be done. I quietly walked up the stairs, and started to pack my duffel bag. I grabbed my wallet that had the money I have been saving to get out of the house for years now. I even swiped my college money, and stuffed it in along with my toiletries and clothes. I grabbed as much of Joe's stuff as I could, and shook him awake.

"Come on Joe, time to go." He lazily forced open his eyes, his beautiful eyes that belonged to my father.

"Sis, I wanna keep sleeping. We don't have to go now, I can take it." I gave him a long stare, and he gently nodded yes, while muttering a quick, "fine." I scooped him up into my arms, with the duffel tight around my shoulder. I started to run out the front door, out of our suburban neighborhood, and out into the highway. I kept running and running, aimlessly trying to find somewhere to rest. I stopped, breathlessly, underneath a bridge, and laid Joe down on a spare blanket. I pushed back his bangs and whispered,

"Don't worry little man, our adventure starts tomorrow. Everything will be better." I weaved his fingers with mine and cuddled next to him for warmth. As I cried myself to sleep I hoped I believed the words I just reassured him with. Being fifteen and taking care of a six year old with a missing father and crazy drunken mother seemed more than impossible.

_A story close to home maybe- a look into my heart. Hint: The group that is next introduced are called, "Runaways" You will see why. Please review if you want more of the story- what happens to the brother and sister fighting for life- on the run from their mother. This chapter just explains the back story. Please review! Thank you very much, -Melody_


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